


Head Blind

by sugarplumfairy



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, F/M, PWP, Retribution Spoilers, Ricardo Ortega - Freeform, Second Time, Semi-Clothed Sex, Vaginal Sex, f!Sidestep - Freeform, no betas we die like men, sidestep has trust issues but she's working on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumfairy/pseuds/sugarplumfairy
Summary: Ricardo has found another creative loophole in Ardi's rules.





	Head Blind

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Ardi asks. It’s a trick question. She’s not holding up any.

Ricardo turns his head towards the sound of her voice and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Ardi chews on her lip. She doesn’t say anything, but Ortega, like always, knows what’s on her mind.

“I promise,” he says. “I can’t see anything.”

She should hope not, because his red silk tie is as tight as it can be around his eyes, and she really, really wants to make this work. Ortega had promised dinner – real, fancy dinner – and afterwards they still managed to end up on this damned couch. She’d already cursed herself for feeling like a horny teenager, but at the same time she knows she can’t trust her own judgement when Ortega’s involved.

He had suggested the blindfold, another creative solution to the problem that had cropped up the first time they’d tried this. She wonders how many times they can do this dance before something has to give. For now, this will have to be enough.

“It just makes me nervous,” she confesses, “not being able to tell if you’re lying.”

She’s used to being head blind around him, but with his eyes covered she can’t even rely on his body language to read him.

“Ard—Gardenia.” He catches himself and says her full name, to let her know that he’s serious. “These are the conditions of your consent. I would never violate them.”

His hand reaches out blindly and Ardi takes it with a soft laugh. His touch is always so warm, so solid.

“I’ve waited ten years for this,” he continues. “I won’t ruin it by getting greedy now.”

“When did you start getting sweet on me, Ricardo?”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, but she knows the answer. _Since the day you died._

That’s not something she wants to unpack right now so instead she starts to roll down her tights. When she gets them down to the hem of her dress she looks at him out of habit. His face isn’t even turned towards her, which eases her nerves.

It’s still harder this time, to see the yellow-orange circuit lines reveal themselves as the black fabric gets rolled away. She didn’t have to deal with this part last time. _Baby steps,_ she tells herself.

She pulls the pink satin dress off over her head, laughs a little when Ricardo squirms at the soft rush of the fabric. He’s anxious for her touch, and it’s fucking adorable. Next is the black long-sleeve shirt, and then she’s just left in a thin bra and panties that she didn’t bother to match.

With the exception of the tie Ricardo’s still fully clothed, and that doesn’t seem fair.

She rests a hand on his thigh, gentle to avoid startling him. He does still flinch, but not scared so much as pent up. Almost vibrating with anticipation. She slides her hands up his thighs, digs her fingers in just a little bit, watches him shiver and sigh and melt into her touch.

_So trusting,_ she thinks, and as soon as she does her old calloused heart cracks open just a little bit further. She doesn’t stop to think about what that means in the long run. She just leans down and kisses him.

It steals the breath out of his lungs. One second she’s on his thighs, lighting trails of fire with her touch, and the next her lips are on his. They’re soft. They’re so much softer than he remembers them and he’s suddenly so glad that he suggested this because it’s unexpectedly electrifying, not knowing where she is. She’s nowhere. She’s everywhere.

She’s dragging her lips now along the corner of his mouth, wet open-mouthed kisses up across his cheek, smearing crimson lipstick as she goes. She nudges his legs apart and he lets them fall open for her.

It feels right, to sink to her knees in the space he’s given her. To work the tail of his leather belt out of its buckle. To pop open the button closure of his black slacks, work them down over his hips until his tawny thighs are laid bare to her hands.

It feels wrong, to let her go when her lips leave his. To want to lick them, taste her just a little bit longer. To stay still for her and wonder where her lips are going.

_Oh, fuck. That’s where they went._

Ardi presses her tongue against the hard outline of his cock through his dark briefs, wraps her lips around the shape of him, slides up his shaft slow and sensual. She leans back, only long enough to tug down the waistband of his briefs and free his cock from its confines.

_Damn, he’s big._

Was he this big last time? Was she too horny to care last time, or too blissed out from her own orgasm to remember anything after? She takes him in her hand, stifles a laugh when he jumps, rubs her thumb over the smoothest skin on Ricardo’s whole body.

Smooth. Mostly dry – there’s a bit of moisture collected at his tip. _Heavy,_ she remembers that.

He digs his blunt fingernails into the couch cushion, almost sobs when the warmth of her mouth meets his cock. She pushes down deeper, deeper, and there’s a sort of wet throaty noise that, in any other circumstance, would have his eyes rolling back in his head but he’s already so lost in arousal that it’s forgotten in the background. Her tongue writhes against the underside of him and he’s about to remind her to breathe when she starts to rise back up and slowly, slowly releases him.

He hears her catch her breath, and for a moment he holds his own in worry that she’s done after the one taste, that she’s standing up now and he just can’t see, that she –

His breath is released as a gasp when she resumes her attack.

“_Mierda,_ Ardi.”

It’s different.

She’s done this to Dr. Mortum many, many times. But that was Ophelia’s confidence, her body with nothing to hide. It wasn’t _really_ Ardi.

She’s done this to Ricardo once before. The only time in her real body. The mouth is the same, the cock is the same, but this Ortega is different. He’s so damn _responsive._

He grunts when she takes him down her throat. He moans when she licks up the length of his shaft. He whines when she releases him from her mouth. She suspects that he’s learned something about himself from this blindfolded experience, but of course she can’t read him and know for sure.

The way he slumps back into the couch when she decides she’s ready to move on will have to be evidence enough. She stands up, hands on his legs to assist her.

“Scoot back a little,” she says as she shimmies her panties down off of her hips.

He does, but his arms look weak from the sluggishness of the motion.

She has to take a moment and admire the view. He’s already a pretty mess – lipstick stains from his mouth to the right side of his face, his white dress shirt wrinkled and half-unbuttoned from their earlier make-out, his slacks gathered around his ankles and cock slick from her blowjob, ready for her.

He feels her weight dip the couch as she climbs over him, rests one knee on the cushion and then the other one on the other side of him. Once she’s straddled him comfortably she takes his cock in hand, leads him to her entrance, and sinks down.

They both moan in unison – Ardi from the sensation of being penetrated in this tighter, virginal body of hers; Ricardo from the sudden and overwhelming softness and pressure, like squeezing water from a stone.

Ardi keeps going, her grip like a vice on Ortega’s shoulders, her breath short and labored, until she rests flush against him. They stay still and connected for a while, each of them unsure if the other is ready to continue. The blind leading the blind.

Finally Ortega says, “I can’t see shit, so you’re gonna be responsible for your own pleasure.”

Ardi laughs, which gets a dopey smile from him. “You couldn’t find my clit even without the blindfold.”

“I found it last time, didn’t I?”

“If you’re in a joking mood, you’re ready, you big idiot.”

Ardi lifts her hips, which shuts him up real fast. She slams them down again and Ortega’s hands find her waist. Touching was never against the rules, but this is the first time that he’s sure she’ll be there when he reaches.

She sets a fast pace – faster than what Ortega had expected from her, and she’s glad that she’s been keeping in better shape because _damn,_ this is tiring. It feels so fucking good, though, and she focuses on the pleasure to pull her through when the burn in her legs starts to border on pain.

She wants more. _Needs_ more.

She fumbles with the buttons on Ricardo’s shirt, cusses when they don’t give up easily.

“Just rip it,” Ricardo says, and the words are so sharp and aggressive that it surprises her.

“R-really?” she asks, stuttering when his cock slams back into her.

“I’ll slip it in w- _mierda- _with the clothing budget,” he says, and she realizes that what she heard earlier wasn’t anger, just unbridled arousal.

“Of_ffffffuck,_ of course you Rangers have a clothing budget,” she retorts, because it’s the best she can think of at the moment.

At the moment, her mind is on other things. Like the fact that Ricardo just gave her permission to rip his shirt open.

It’s agony, waiting for her to do it. He feels her grab the edges of the shirt, the part that’s been unbuttoned already, and the seconds it takes seem like hours. It’s amazing, really, that blindly waiting for Ardi to rip his shirt open is somehow more arousing than her fucking herself on his cock. He could get used to this.

Then there’s the tearing of fabric, the popping of buttons, and cool air on his chest. And Ardi’s hands, ravenous on his skin. She feels her search, explore. It’s familiar territory – he’s been in various states of undress in front of her before (never the other way around) – but there’s been changes to the terrain. New scars. New mods. New fat pouches.

And then her lips touch his again. _Oh Jesus, were we really that close to kissing this whole time?_

He finds the curve of her face with one hand as the kiss deepens, and slides the other down her leg, searching.

His grip tightens on her thigh and Ardi tries to figure out why she feels a phantom pain there. The answer hits her like a freight train. It’s the Psychopathor scar. Their first kiss.

That was what, ten years ago? The scar is old and faded now, but the skin is still puckered from her clumsy self-surgery. She puts a hand over Ricardo’s and squeezes. She understands. He doesn’t want to lose her again.

He breaks the kiss gently, like he’s afraid to. “I’m close,” he whispers.

“Me too.”

Ardi speeds up to a brutal pace, her hand leaves his to rub at her clit.

Ricardo’s so consumed by the pleasure that he almost doesn’t notice the fabric slipping against his ear.

“Oh no, the tie’s coming off,” he says.

“What?!” Ardi’s reply is panicked, but she doesn’t slow down. Can’t slow down. She’s too close to the end and she can’t stop chasing it.

“My eyes are closed! My eyes are closed, don’t worry!”

Ardi watches the tie slip down his nose, fall down around his neck. True to his word, Ortega’s eyes are shut so tight that there’s a crinkle in the bridge of his nose, and it’s so cute that she has to laugh. She presses a light kiss to the point where his eyebrows and nose scrunch together, and then she has to bury her face in his shoulder because her orgasm is coming, and it’s coming fast.

She shudders when it arrives, melts into Ortega’s solid form, and his hand moves to her back, presses her even further into him. She feels both electric and boneless, like a… snake? No, that’s not… She can’t think of anything that’s electric and boneless, because all of her nerve ends are tingling and her brain is overloaded with dopamine.

Ricardo wants to open his eyes so badly, see the face that’s currently gasping into his skin, but he won’t. He doesn’t know why yet, but this is something important to Ardi, which means it’s important to him.

She stopped moving when her orgasm hit, but he’s so close that it’s driving him crazy. He kisses whatever part of her is next to him (he thinks it’s her cheek, probably) and lifts her up as much as he can with just his arms before he starts thrusting. She makes the most broken moan he’s ever heard and he bottles it up for himself because if he ever brought it up later she would slap him.

He knows she’s sensitive, but he hopes to make this quick now that he’s not holding out for her. It’s not long at all, once his focus narrows to her slick heat and his own throbbing cock. He pulls out at the last second, feels his own cum make a mess on his bare skin, thinks about how Ardi must look and that’s a dangerous thought because now he wants to open his eyes but he doesn’t. He won’t.

They stay there, both spent and exhausted.

Ardi shifts. “I don’t want to get up,” she says.

From the tone of her voice, Ricardo hears the other, unsaid, half of the sentence. _But I will._

“If you help me put the blindfold back on, we don’t have to get dressed just yet.”

She hears the unspoken part as well. _You don’t have to go yet. Touch me just a little longer._

He’s reaching again, unsure if she’s still on the other side.

Then the tie around his neck moves. Up, back over his eyes. It’s secured tightly. Her comfortable weight settles back in his lap. Fingers drag patterns through the curly hair on his chest. Her cool cheek on his shoulder.

He could get used to this.


End file.
